Long Time No See
by Ezika
Summary: MonRach, now completed. Monica learns to move on.
1. chapter 1

**Long Time No See (part 1)**

This is set in late Season 10 or maybe early (what would have been) Season 11. Chandler and Monica moved to Tulsa early Season 9 and stayed there, he died eight months ago, everything else you need to know will be explained in the story. Its told from Rachel's point of view. I don't own the characters. Dedicated to Megs and DMG, love you both. 

I woke up on the couch to find the most beautiful pair of eyes I've ever seen looking right at me. As soon as my eyes were open she leaned towards me and I closed them again as her soft, familiar lips brushed mine in a gentle kiss. 

"Hi," she said quietly.

"How long have you been there watching me sleep?"

"Not long. Ross called me."

"So how come you're not with him?"

"I figured you'd need me more."

I didn't answer her. I just kissed her again. 

"I'm sorry about Chandler," I told her. She moved away from me for the first time, awkwardly fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. "Do you wanna talk about it?" I suddenly felt bad for not spending more time with her when he died. Ross, Joey, Phoebe and I had just flown down to Oklahoma for the funeral and come straight back to New York afterwards. 

"No, I can't."

"Ok sweetie." I stroked her hair. She turned back to face me and offered me a faltering smile. 

"You wanna talk about what happened with Ross and Joey?"

I could tell she needed to listen for a while to regain her composure, so I shrugged and nodded. "Ross found out about me and Joey. I think he still thought we had a chance, that we'd get together in the end, if only for Emma's sake. For me to be with one of his best friends was something of a shock. But he really doesn't wanna lose Emma, he's so terrified I'm gonna take her away from him that he begged me to let her stay at the apartment with him." I sighed. "Its gonna be messy, whatever happens. Kids complicate everything."

"I'm sorry."

"I can understand, I guess, but that doesn't make it any easier. Anyway, the thing was, Phoebe had always kind of had a thing for Joey, so she gave us both the cold shoulder. With you in Oklahoma and Chandler…" I stopped myself, blushing. "I'm sorry Mon."

"You can mention his name you know." But she was looking away again, and blinking rapidly. 

"Anyway, Joey couldn't take being shunned by everyone. He went crawling to Ross to beg forgiveness."

"It didn't work," she said, "Phoebe let him off, but Ross didn't. He said he couldn't be friends with someone who would betray him like that."

"Yeah? Well, I'm the one left on my own. Emma's with Ross, and I know he's a great father and they adore each other, but I miss her. I'm her mother, she should be with me!" 

"God Rach, I'm so sorry. But you're not on your own."

"What?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm here." She had edged closer to me again, and was smiling. I kissed her; thanking her for being with me, thanking her for her support. 

"For how long?" 

She shrugged. "I don't know if I can go back to Oklahoma alone, the last eight months there have been hell. On the other hand, if I stay here, I'm gonna be branded a traitor to the family for not rushing to Ross's defence."

"You could go somewhere completely different," I suggested.

"I'll settle for your couch for a few days, if that's ok?" she said. I sat up, took her hand and pulled her up off the floor onto the couch with me.

"Of course its ok. You can stay as long as you want. Its your apartment after all." I had moved in there after I split up with Joey. Chandler and Monica never had gotten round to doing anything with it, and I couldn't live with any of the others when they all hated me. 

She smiled at me and I squeezed her hand. We just sat there quietly for a long time, still holding hands. My mind wandered back seven years, to when we'd been lovers. We had spent long evenings just sitting quietly together then as well. Now though, it felt more comfortable, less electrically charged. We both had too much else going on, too much shit was happening. I hadn't called her since Chandler's funeral; I just hadn't known what to say to her. She hadn't called me either, which was typical Monica, not wanting to ask for help. Ever since she'd been with Chandler, it was him she turned to rather than me. When we had been together, it was always me. I missed that. Even as I was being happy for her and Chandler, a small part of me resented him for taking away my Monica. Instantly, I felt guilty for thinking that about her dead husband, and force my thoughts back onto how happy I had been when we were together. I glanced over, almost assuming she would be thinking the same as me. She wasn't. Her head was down, her hands hid her face, she was crying quietly.

"Oh Mon, come here," I said softly, all thought of us ever having been more than just best friends flew straight out of my head. I put my arm around her and pulled her closer to me. Monica leaned against me, crying louder now she wasn't trying to hide it. 

"I miss him!" she sobbed as I rocked her back and forth, "I miss him so much Rach." A part of me, the same part that had resented Chandler all along, wanted to ask why she'd kissed me if she missed her husband so much, but I silenced it. It wasn't like we had made out or anything, it was just a friendly kiss or two. 

"I know sweetheart, I know."

"Everything in Tulsa reminds me of him, and its even worse here."

"I'm sure Ross'd let you stay over there if that's easier for you," I said, biting my lip. I didn't want her to leave, I wanted to be the one looking after her. I hated myself for being relieved when she shook her head.

"The company's much better over here," she said, wiping her eyes and meeting my concerned gaze. 

"Hey, my daughter's over there you know," I tried to joke. She looked sadder than ever, and I guessed I had foolishly reminded her over the kids she didn't have. "Mon…I…"

"Sorry Rach, I was fine before. It just hits me every so often you know? I'll be ok again in a bit."

"You don't have to be ok around me."

Monica smiled in gratitude, but she was already much calmer. 

"You want something to eat?" I offered, feeling like I needed to say something light.

"No thanks, you mind if I take a shower though?" 

"Go ahead, I'll make up a bed for you while you're in there."

"Where?" she asked uncomfortably.

"Well, I'm in my old room so…" Silently, we both looked towards the room she'd shared with Chandler. 

"The couch will do me fine," she said, forcing a smile.

"Are you sure? You can have my room if you want, I don't mind," I offered.

"I'm sure. Thanks Rach."

"No problem."

Once she'd gone into the bathroom and I could hear the water running, I went into the room she was avoiding to get some bedding for her. I could understand why she didn't wanna sleep in there. It was pretty much exactly as she and Chandler had left it. At least in the rest of the apartment, my stuff was strewn everywhere, distorting it from the way it was in her memories. My heart ached for her. 

"Rach?" 

At the sound of her quiet, questioning voice, I spun around, almost guiltily. I guess I still felt that the room was hers, and by being there I was intruding. She stood midway between the bathroom and the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her body and another around her hair. She looked unsure whether or not to come closer to her old bedroom. I gestured to the bedding in my arms as an explanation for being in there. She glanced at it only briefly. Her eyes were everywhere, she was trying not to look, and yet being drawn to look at the same time. I walked out of the bedroom, put the bedding down on the window seat and walked close enough to her to hug her tightly. She buried her face in my shoulder, I think she was relieved to be unable to look, whether she wanted to or not. Her skin was damp to touch, smooth and soft. I rubbed her back gently, until she raised her head from my shoulder. Her face was so close to mine that I could feel her warm breath on lips. I wondered if she was going to kiss me. From the look on her face, I think she was wondering if she was going to kiss me as well. She didn't.

"I left my clothes in my bag, out here," she said eventually, pulling away from me. I let her go easily, but wished I could cling onto her, hold her until she was really ok again. And when I was done holding her, I would kiss her. A real kiss, not like the light pecks we'd shared earlier. It was years since I had wanted to kiss her that badly, so badly it was all I could do not to grab her and not let go, ever. 

She went back into the bathroom, with her bag. I noticed she'd only brought one, not very big bag, and I was disappointed she probably wasn't going to stay for long. While she got dressed, I set up her bed for her on the couch. 

Half an hour later, we were both sitting on her makeshift bed, her in cotton pjs, me still fully dressed. She looked sweet and vulnerable next to me like that. We had talked about this and that, mostly my job, a little about some happy memories of the old gang, nothing that made Monica cry again though.

"You know, after Chandler died, I missed my period," she said suddenly. I looked at her sharply, wondering what she was getting at. "I was so happy, I thought I was pregnant. That I'd lost my husband but he was giving me this wonderful new life in returned." I didn't want to ask her what happened, but I'm sure the question was all over my face. "I wasn't pregnant. I was never pregnant. Stress. That's why I missed it. Your husband dying is pretty stressful you know," she said, sounding more bitter than I think I'd ever heard her.

"I'm sorry Mon," I said quietly, not knowing what else I could say. 

"Hey, its not like I had a miscarriage or an abortion or anything. There never was a baby. Nothing to be sorry about." She stopped suddenly and bit her lip. I hugged her, expecting her to cry, but she didn't, although her voice was shaky when she continued. "You wanna know what was even worse than that though?" Something in her voice told me I really didn't. "I was all alone. I was in a city where the only people I knew, I knew through Chandler. They were all his friends, not mine. My friends were miles and miles away in New York. Not calling." She ended on a sob, but only one tear actually fell down her cheek. She pulled out of my embrace and stared accusingly at me.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, "We…I…I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if you'd want us intruding on your grief." As I heard my own words I knew how pathetic they sounded, that I was making useless excuses for abandoning my best friend when she needed me more than she ever had before. 

"It doesn't matter," she said suddenly, shrugging her anger at being neglected by us away. 

"No, Mon, it does matter," I insisted. "We should have called. I should have called. I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter," she repeated. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

I laughed at that. She glared at me, and I knew she thought I was being incredibly insensitive, but I couldn't help it. Monica was apologising for making me feel bad, when I had been in the wrong in the first place? That wasn't like her at all, she had a hard enough time apologising when she was in the wrong. I wondered if losing Chandler had brought about this change in her. My laughter died away and I stared at her. She met my eyes; confused, a little angry still, and something else. I touched her cheek gently, and she leaned her head into my hand trustingly. 

"I've just been so confused since he died. And I've had no one to talk to about any of it, so now I finally do, its all coming out all jumbled up," she explained.

"Its ok," I assured her, gently stroking her cheek. She kissed the heel of my hand, then took my wrist and moved my hand over her lips so she could kiss my palm, my fingers and finally my fingertips. I sat very still and let her. When she gently dropped my hand, I let it fall to my lap. 

"I'm still confused," she whispered. 

"Its ok," I said again. I watched her face. She was looking at the hand she had just kissed, then after a few seconds, she picked it up and held it, resting both our hands on my thigh. 

"I want to kiss you," she said suddenly, still looking at our joined hands. "But it'd feel like I was betraying Chandler." She looked so sad, torn apart. 

"I want to kiss you too," I confessed, at which she looked up, surprised, and met my eyes, until we both quickly looked away. "But don't do anything you don't want to do Mon. I don't want to make you feel guilty or anything."

"I'm sorry," she said. I wondered if I had ever heard her apologise as many times in her life as I had in this one night. She chuckled wryly. "Like I said, I'm still confused."

"Monica, its late. Why don't you come into my room with me? Not to… do anything. But you shouldn't be on your own, not anymore."

I could see how close she was to saying yes, but she shook her head. "I'll be fine on the couch," she said.

"Ok, well, goodnight then," I said, trying to sound cheerful. She gave me a smile that showed she knew I was disappointed and that she was sorry. 

It took me a long time to fall asleep. I kept wishing I could still tell from one look at her exactly what Monica was thinking. Things between us felt confused. She had kissed me. But she had cried to me over Chandler. She also seemed to be about as confused as I was about the whole thing, probably more; after all, I just knew I wanted her. Ross, Joey and Emma were totally separate. For her, it wasn't that simple.

From the shadows under Monica's eyes the next morning, I guessed she hadn't slept any better than I had. When I emerged from my bedroom, rubbing my eyes, she spun round and looked at me sheepishly from the kitchen, where she was frying some eggs for breakfast. 

"Force of habit," she shrugged. I couldn't help smiling. She looked so at home here, so comfortable. I noticed she had folded her bedding and put it on the window seat and realised she still didn't want to go into her old bedroom, so badly she'd rather leave stuff lying out in the living room. I joined her in the kitchen to make some coffee and chuckled at the rearranged fridge magnets. She caught my eye and we both laughed. 

"I keep expecting the gang to come over," Monica commented as we ate. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Don't worry about it," I said with false cheerfulness. "Besides, who needs 'em?" She smiled at me. 

"You wanna do something today?" she asked a few minutes later.

"Yeah, I wanna hang out here with my best friend," I said. I hoped she wouldn't mind me calling her my best friend. 

"Sure thing sweetie," she agreed, smiling. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend the day with."

We had a lot to catch up on. Since we'd had our serious talk last night, we were able to concentrate on happier things. She told me about Chandler's southern co-workers and how she'd transformed their Tulsa apartment from a complete hell hole to a gorgeous, cohesive living environment within two months of moving in. She even pulled out a picture of Chandler in it to show me some paint technique they'd used on the walls. As soon as the picture was out of her purse, her face fell and lost the animated expression discussing decorating had given it. 

"There, that wall behind Chandler, that's the one I was telling you about," she said, determinedly carrying on. Obediently, I looked at the photo. Unlike her, I didn't find paint effects at all interesting, and I barely noticed the wall; my eyes fixed on Chandler. It was, after all, a photo of Chandler, and that's why she had it with her, the paint effect wall was merely a background feature that happened to be there. Chandler was all dressed up in his smartest suit, which didn't match his casual pose, lounging in a big comfy looking chair. 

"Its nice," I told her blankly. "What was he all dressed up for?"

"Work party," Monica said. She fished in her purse again and produced another photo, this one of both of them, obviously taken at the same time. She was laughing in it, Chandler had pulled her onto his lap and was tickling her, mindless of her beautiful black dress. "Mick, one of our friends down there, took this for me."

"Monica…I…I'm so sorry sweetie." I needed to say something, but I couldn't grasp words that could accurately convey just how awful I felt for her. It had been eight months since he died, but I knew the pain was still only just under the surface of Monica's calm 'I'm doing ok' exterior, lurking, ready to burst through the slightest crack. Being here, with me, talking about it, seemed to be making new cracks. I didn't know if that was good, because it was releasing pent up emotions, or bad, because of how bad it was making her feel. I just wrapped my arms tightly around her and stroked her hair. After only a few seconds, she broke away.

"I'm ok," she insisted. "Really. But can we maybe go out somewhere instead of just sitting here in the apartment?" 

"Of course. Where'd you wanna go? Central Perk?"

"I was thinking maybe somewhere further away." I knew what she meant. Further away from the memories that were tearing her apart. 

It was eleven thirty that night by the time we got back to the apartment. We'd been shopping all day and managed not to buy anything. Monica had bought us lunch, so I had paid for dinner at one of our favourite restaurants. After dinner she had suggested going to a bar, so perhaps it wasn't surprising that it seemed extraordinarily difficult for me to open the front door. I think Monica had been drowning her sorrows a little too enthusiastically, because she didn't comment on my clumsiness, just stood, leaning heavily against the wall, watching me. 

"Hey, you got the door open!" she observed happily. I grinned at her and we both burst into giggles as we staggered into the apartment. 

"You," I told her, pointing at her, "are the mostest prettiest drunk person I've ever seen."

"I'm not drunk!" she protested.

"You are SO drunk!" 

"Nuh uh!"

"Yuh huh! 'Cause I'M drunk and you drank like twice as much as me!"

"Did not!" 

Monica was giggling madly. She looked so cute I could just eat her up. 

"Mon, come here," I said, fighting to control my own giggles. The effort of walking two steps towards me screwed her face up in concentration as she struggled to keep her balance. She stopped only when she was so close to me it would have been uncomfortable if it had been anyone else, or if I had been any less drunk myself. 

"Hi!" she chirped.

"Hi."

I took a deep breath, in an attempt to steel myself to do this. All it did was fill my lungs with her smell. I kissed her. I figured being drunk was a good excuse if she wasn't as drunk as I thought she was, and she stopped me. Monica didn't resist my soft kiss, so I risked taking it that step further. All I could taste was her, all I could smell was her, all I could feel was her arms around me and her body in my own arms, all I could see was flickers of light dancing behind my closed eyes. I probably should have felt guilty for taking advantage of her, but I couldn't think enough to have lingering thoughts of guilt.

Eventually, the kiss had to end. But we didn't move apart from one another, settling for a tight hug. With my head buried in her shoulder, I was happy. Several minutes later, it was Monica who gently pulled away. She wasn't giggling anymore, but she didn't look unhappy, as I had feared she might. She looked like she was struggling to find what to say next. I smiled and resisted the urge to pull her back into my arms.

"It's ok sweetie," I whispered, teasing a strand of her hair between my fingers. 

"I know."

_To be continued…_


	2. chapter 2

**Long Time No See (part 2)**

****

Thanks for reading this far, thanks to Exintaris for the review. Still told from Rachel's point of view, and I still don't own the characters.  I apologise if I have the dates wrong, I'm always bad with stuff like that. This part is dedicated to DMG, for her amazing beta-ing skills.

I lay in bed for a long time the next morning, terrified things might feel weird between us in the cold, sober light of day. I guess, more than anything, I was afraid that look at her and smiled, and instead of smiling warmly back, she would give me a nervous look that told me she was trying to think of a way to let me down easy. To stop myself from going crazy with thoughts of what might possibly happen, I forced my mind to remember what had happened, once upon a time.

I don't think there is one day that I can say 'that's when it happened' about our relationship. I can tell you when our first kiss was and when we first made love. But I can't think of an exact date when our feelings changed from friendship into love. All I know is that when I was devastated about breaking up with Ross, it was Monica who was always there, day and night. From what she told me later, I think that was when her feelings began to change, although at the time, I had no idea. Even when she was going out with Pete, she managed to find the time to talk sense into me when I came up with stupid plans to make Ross jealous, and to go out and get drunk with me when I was really depressed. And then of course, she and Pete split up and I was surprised by how unaffected she was by it. Until she confessed she was actually a little relieved, because there was someone else she liked more than she had ever liked Pete. I have never been so shocked in my life as I was when she admitted that person was me. For a while, we avoided each other, she was embarrassed, I was just freaked out, I guess. We both got drunk at the Beach House, especially me, and I spent most of the evening clinging to her. Somehow though, I lost her, and when I stumbled out onto the deck to look for her, she was sitting on Chandler's lap, kissing him. The surge of jealousy that I felt made me question my feelings towards her, and was probably a big reason for me going to her room later to talk to her. And to share our first kiss. 

We were together for a year, until a stupid fight in London sent her running drunkenly into Chandler's waiting arms. Once we were all back in New York, I tried my best to make up with her, but she didn't want to. I remained confused until a few months later when I found out that she hadn't just had a one night stand with Chandler in London, she was in a relationship with him. I was hurt that she'd gotten over me so quickly, and it was hard to watch her and Chandler together, but Joey telling me that Monica had suggested involving me in a threesome with her and Chandler, and Chandler had turned her down because he was afraid she still loved me, made me feel slightly better. 

Sighing, I told myself I should just think about how much fun we had when we were together, and not torture myself with the memories and possibilities of being apart. However, when I finally ventured out of my bedroom, and saw her sitting on the couch watching TV with the volume turned down, still wearing pjs, her bedding tossed onto the chair, uncharacteristically messy, I thought maybe I needed to focus on the bad stuff after all, if I was to stand any chance of making it through the next few days with her right there without pushing her further than she was ready to go. 

I had a quiet day. Monica had decided she'd better go see Ross and the rest of the group. I wanted to hold her back, to keep her all to myself a little longer, but I restrained myself from grabbing her arm or even just asking her to stay. She came back at about 4pm, walked straight past me (I was washing up, I was so bored without her) and flopped down on the couch. 

"How was it?" I asked, drying my hands and walking over to her.

"Ugh."

"That good?"

"Ross was fine, happy to see me even, until I mentioned I was staying over here. He didn't shout or anything, he just gave me this whole speech about how bloods thicker than water and I should be with my family."

"How is everyone?"

"Ross is still mad at Joey, but they managed to be in the same room for several hours while I was there without any bitchy comments. Emma's really grown! She's so cute! Phoebe was, well, Phoebe! Joey was really quiet, I think he misses you a lot," Monica said, ticking each of them off on her fingers. "Do you miss him?" she asked abruptly.

I was thrown by the question. "I…dunno, I mean, I guess so, but I have you here to take my mind off it," I said slowly. She seemed satisfied with my answer.

"I left Ross's a couple of hours ago, I went to Central Park, I needed to think," Monica said. I joined her on the couch, close, but not actually touching her. "I was thinking about you and me. I was thinking how complicated everything is." She met my eyes for a second, then shied away from my gaze, then her eyes slowly returned to mine. "You know how jealous Chandler was of Richard?" she said. I nodded slowly. "That was only when everyone else was around. When it was just us, it was always you he was worried about competing with. Once he even asked me if I preferred men or women."

"What did you say?" I asked, because I couldn't help myself. She grinned at me.

"I told him it didn't matter, it depended on the person."

"Did you tell him the truth?" I asked quietly. She smiled and nodded. 

"You're the only woman I've ever been with, and after you, I could never say I'd never be with another woman, if Chandler and I didn't work out. But I wouldn't say I was a lesbian," she said. 

"Mon, why are things so complicated?" I asked, changing the subject. I hated to admit it, but a tiny part of me wanted her to say she preferred women; that she preferred me. 

"Because, I love Chandler. And I don't know what happens to people when they die, but I'd like to believe he's somewhere happy, and that somehow he's watching over me. If he is, I know he'd hate the thought of you and me together, he'd think that all his worst fears and insecurities were right. You think I'm stupid," she added bluntly. "You think I should be more concerned about you and me than about my dead husband who may or may not be watching over us."

"No Mon, I'd never think that," I promised.

"Who knows, maybe it IS stupid of me, but I can't help it! I can't help what I feel for him anymore than I can help what I feel for you."

"What do you feel for me?" I asked with curious trepidation.

She sighed and ran her hands through her hair in either frustration or anxiety. "I… I love you. But I'm so confused, Rach. I'm not ready to feel this strongly about anyone, it feels like I'm betraying Chandler."

"I'm sure he'd want you to be happy," I ventured timidly.

"I guess so. But you know, if I died, I wouldn't be thrilled if less than a year later he was rushing into a relationship with Joey or something!"

"You know how much is wrong with that sentence?" I tried to joke. Monica just rolled her eyes at me.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do, I'm sorry."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Did you have feelings for me the entire time I was with Chandler or did they go away and have now resurfaced?" she asked.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked cautiously. I was beginning to get the feeling this conversation, that started so casually, had the potential to make or break us.

"The truth."

How could she treat it so simply? I sighed and decided now was as good a time as any to spill my guts. "I was hurt when you and Chandler were first together, before I found out about you, and then for a while afterwards. I loved you so much and it felt like you through it all away over a dumb drunken fight."

"God, Rach…"

I didn't let her finish. "But then I saw how happy you and Chandler were. He made you happy. I wished," I looked at her nervously, "I wish," I corrected myself, "I could have made you happy. But then, I dunno, you guys got serious, I kinda figured I had to move on. Don't get me wrong, my feelings never went away, I just learned to hide them away I guess."

Monica was giving me a look I couldn't decipher. "And now?" she asked quietly.

"And now you're here, and the first thing you did was kiss me, and I haven't seen you in so long, so all I could think about when I first saw you here was how beautiful you are. But you're so sad too, and that just makes me wanna love you and take the pain away and I can't and I hate that. I'm sorry if I haven't said whatever it was you wanted me to say, but I love you too much to lie to you."

I looked at her, desperate to see some sign of how she felt written on her face, but there was none. She was staring at a spot just behind me, obviously trying to appear as though she was looking at me, but unable to quite do so. I would have given anything in the world to know what she was thinking. 

"Like I said, I didn't want you to lie to me," she said eventually, sounding shaken. 

"Are we ok?"

"Of course we are. Why wouldn't we be?" I gave her a look. "Look Rach, I have to admit, I'm a little shocked by what you said, but in a good way. I expected you to have gotten over me when you found out I was with Chandler and to have forgotten about it until the other day."

"How could I forget YOU?" 

She smiled slightly and blushed. "I mean, forget that part of me, of us."

"Did you forget?" I asked, bracing myself for an answer I didn't want to hear.

"I didn't forget. I could never forget. But I was with Chandler, it didn't seem so important, so…" she struggled for the word. I thought about suggesting 'brilliant', 'amazing', 'wonderful', 'special' or any number of adjectives that I might have used, but I kept quiet. "So real," she settled on, looking uncomfortable with her choice of word after all. "I mean, when I was with a guy again, it seemed weird to think I'd been with a woman the same way and felt the same things."

"You think it was weird?" 

"No! I didn't mean 'weird', I meant… it seemed kinda surreal, looking back on it. And you were mad at me, so I went from being with you all the time to hardly seeing you, until I wasn't sure what I felt or had felt anymore."

I shrugged. "You're the one who started the whole thing, with us, back then. Its weird," I mocked her slightly, subconsciously, on the word 'weird'. "That it seemed to matter least to you when it was over." 

"I'm sorry. You said you couldn't lie to me, well I can't lie to you either Rach. I can't sit here and say that the whole time I was with Chandler, I was thinking of you, I can't say I had feelings for you while I was with him, ok? I'm sorry!" she said, half angrily, then got up from the couch and stormed into the bathroom, throwing the door open as if to slam it, but then shutting it quietly. I stared after her for a while, then realised she was crying, I could hear her muffled sobs through the thin walls. 

"Mon?" I called, getting up and knocking on the door gently. She ignored me. "Monica?" I tried again, louder. Still no answer. "Ok fine, I'm gonna go out for a while, so you can come out safely as soon as I'm gone."

I briefly thought about tricking her and waiting here til she came out, but I wasn't in the mood to talk to her, and I doubted she was any keener to talk to me either. So I went out. As I left the building, I glanced into Central Perk, but it was bright and lively and I just wanted somewhere I could sit quietly, by myself. I ended up in Central Park, which wasn't exactly empty, but sitting on bench staring into the distance, I was almost able to convince myself I was completely alone. I'm not entirely sure why it was so important to me that I was alone. I've never been someone who enjoys spending a lot of time on my own, I've always preferred the company of others. Not like Monica, who can sit and brood on things for hours on end, or Phoebe who can amuse herself for ages with the voices in her head or writing new songs, or Chandler who can work on new joke material, or Ross who would spend hours on his computer happily researching dinosaurs or fossils or whatever. I was like Joey, I needed other people. And right then, I needed Monica. But she was mad at me, and I guess I was mad at her too. If I couldn't have Monica, a part of me wanted to go find Joey, tell him everything and cry on his shoulder. But seeing Joey would only remind me of my own complications. 

Eventually though, I realised I couldn't sit out there all night. When the kids and their parents started to filter out of the park, and be replaced by teenagers with illegal alcohol and God knows what else, I decided I'd better head home. When I got there, Monica was sitting in the living room, reading a magazine. She looked up at me when I came in.

"If you want me to leave, I'm sure Ross'll let me stay there," she offered quietly.

"Do you want to leave?" 

"If I did, I would have done it already," she said with a small smile, which I returned.

"Feel free to stay then."

"Are you mad at me?" Monica asked, biting her lip. I sighed.

"No sweetie, all you did was tell me how you feel. Are you mad at me?"

"No, I just… I just wish this was easier."

"Look, if you don't wanna be with me, that's fine."

"No, I… I do want to Rach. I'm just… I still feel like I'm married to Chandler. If he was alive there's no way I'd be considering this."

"But he's not," I said gently.

"I know that Rachel! I know that better than anyone!" she snapped. 

"Sorry."

"You just need to give me time, ok?" 

"Time?" I asked, suddenly confused.

"Time!" she repeated, and then sighed. "I'm scared of what I'm feeling right now, Rach. If you and I are to have any chance at all, you have to give me time to get used to everything. Not the being with you part," she smiled, "that's the part I'm excited about. But everything else is so much more complicated than when we were together before."

I sighed too. "I just wish things were still that easy." 

"Me too," she said sadly.

"Mon," I started nervously. "Do you think if we hadn't broken up in London or you hadn't fallen in love with Chandler, we'd still be together? And things would still be as easy as they used to be."

"I think there's no point wondering about what ifs," Monica said after hesitating for a few seconds. "You want something to eat?" Clearly, she didn't want to continue the conversation. 

"Sure," I said, mostly so I could just sit and chat to her while she cooked, then we could eat together. I almost wished everything hadn't come out, that we could still sit together like any other best friends and not have it hanging over our heads like some unattainable dream. But then, I wouldn't have been able to spend a wonderful year of my life loving her.

Throughout dinner, we didn't mention anything that we'd talked about. She told me more about how the gang had seemed, and I told her about some of the new projects I was working on at Ralph Lauren. Nice, safe subjects. After dinner, we watched TV together, sitting a nice, safe distance away from each other, sitting at either end of the couch. Monica got up to the kitchen to get herself a drink of water, when she came back to the couch, I noticed she sat in the middle of the couch, instead of at her end. She was close enough to me so that when she moved slightly I could feel her arm brush delicately against mine. 

For ten minutes I was acutely aware of her being so close. I no longer had any idea what we were pretending to watch on the TV, and it was taking all the willpower I possessed to maintain the exact distance she had placed between us, and not to close the miniscule gap. My eyes fell closed and I couldn't stop myself imagining what would happen if I put my arms around her right now and kissed her. My eyes jerked open when I felt her lean forward and set her glass on the coffee table in front of her. When she had set it down she reached for the remote and switched the TV off. I looked at her curiously. 

"I didn't think either of us was really watching it," she whispered. "But I can put it back on if you like?" 

"No, I wasn't. You know, I think I should get an early night, my concentration is gone to hell," I said quickly, standing up. It was half true; how could I concentrate on TV when Monica Geller-Bing sat next so tantalisingly close to me?

"Oh ok," she said, with what I hoped was a whisper of disappointment in her voice, "Night."

"Night," I mumbled, heading for my room.

"Rach?" she said suddenly, when I was halfway there. I turned round, my eyebrows raised questioningly. She slowly walked the short distance between us, so she was standing in front of me. I searched her face for some kind of explanation. 

Then she kissed me.

She kissed me softly, her hands gently on my waist. My eyes closed in sheer pleasure at the feel of her lips on mine. But it was over all too soon, and she left me feeling exposed when she stepped shyly away again.

"Sweet dreams," she said sweetly, smiling at me lovingly. Before I could respond, she turned away and busied herself arranging her bed on the couch again. I watched her for a few moments, but before she could turn back to face me, I retreated into my bedroom.

Once the door was closed, I sank onto the bed on my stomach. I needed her so badly it was like a physical pain. Her light kiss had turned me into a trembling wreck. I quickly changed for bed, but as soon as I was under the covers, I realised I wasn't at all tired. In fact, if she had come in right then and wanted to make love all night long, I wouldn't have had any problem with it whatsoever. With hardly any direction from me, my mind was soon fantasising about what that would be like; after all, it wasn't a total fantasy, it had happened before, years ago. Unfortunately, doing that didn't make me sleepy at all, it just made me even hornier than I already was. Giving in to myself, I slipped my fingers between my legs and gently started to rub. It didn't take long at all. Afterwards I felt a mild sense of guilt that I was fantasising about my best friend, who was just in the next room, but it soon passed. Masturbating worked better as a sedative than fantasy alone, so I was asleep before I could give much thought to whether or not I should feel guilty.

I dreamt about her. I dreamt about lying in bed with her, in our underwear, not doing anything sexual, just kissing and gently stroking one another. When I woke up, I felt a sharp sense of loss when I realised that she wasn't really lying next to me. I had almost expected to see her there, dark hair mussed up, her face relaxed and serene, eyes closed, lips forming half a smile, her breath warm and soft against my arm. 

My disappointment was so strong that I got up, and went into the living room, half hoping Monica was awake so I could talk to her and maybe casually put a friendly arm around her to feel her warmth for myself. I didn't realise how early it was until I saw she was still asleep. But I wasn't disappointed. She looked just how I had pictured her, just how I remembered her. Only she wasn't smiling in her sleep, like she always had when I slept next to her. I moved quietly towards her and sat on the coffee table, watching her. She was so beautiful. Even though I knew her face as well as my own, the reality of it always amazed me. In my head, she was beautiful, but I always forgot whatever it was that made me ache at the sight of her. 

I don't know how long I sat there, watching her, before she woke up. But when she did, I was suddenly nervous at being caught staring at her. But Monica didn't look like she thought there was anything wrong with me staring at her. She smiled to see me, and I instinctively returned her smile. She reached for my hand, and when she took it, I squeezed hers. The only thing I could think about was how much I loved her.

To be continued… 


	3. chapter 3

**Long Time No See (part 3)**

****

_Well, part 2 was finished in a surprise burst of productivity, so I figured I'd do part 3 too. Still from Rach's POV, the characters still aren't mine (although if someone wants to buy Courteney for me, that'd be great). This continues straight from the last part. It's pretty steamy, so if anything more sexual than "bellybutton" offends you, you might wanna skip the last couple of pages. If anyone thinks its too much for an R rating, tell me and I'll remove it. Dedicated to all the Exintarias for refusing to let me forget about this fic amidst all my uni work. _

We sat still and quiet for a long time, just holding hands. She looked at me steadily the whole time, her blue eyes felt like they were looking right into me. Eventually she sat up, and gently pulled me to sit next to her. I sat as close to her as she had sat next to me last night. Instead of being uncomfortable with it, Monica seemed totally at ease and after only a few seconds, rested her head on my shoulder. 

"Mon?" I said after a while.

"Mmm hmm?"

"How much time do you think you're gonna need?"

"You getting impatient?" she lifted her head and chuckled, stroking my arm gently.

"Maybe just a little," I admitted. 

"I'm sorry Rach, I just don't know."

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I was pressuring you or anything."

"I know," she smiled. "And anyway, its nice to feel wanted."

"Who wouldn't want you?" I asked, genuinely shocked. She winced. "Mon? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Don't be sorry. What's the matter sweetie?" I asked, concerned.

"Nothing, its stupid," she said insitently. She drew away from me and stared intently at her chewed fingernails.

"It can't be nothing if its upset you."

"Its just… Chandler said that to me in London." 

"What? Oh God Monica, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't know!"

"Don't worry about it." She paused, but she seemed to have more to say, so I was quiet until she spoke again. "You remember our fight in London?" she asked. I nodded. How could I forget? "You remember what it was about?"

"You thought I wasn't attracted to you anymore because I wouldn't sneak away from the party to have sex," I said. It sounded almost funny, and yet it still hurt, even now, to think that something so stupid had caused me to lose the woman I loved.

"Rachel, I'm sorry," she said softly. I took her hand. 

"It doesn't matter now anyway."

"No, it does!" she insisted. "Everything we had changed because I was so fucking insecure and my mom had managed to drag my self-esteem down so low that rock bottom would've been an improvement. And I was drunk, and I was worried you were jealous of Emily. It just all got too much. I needed to feel loved." 

I pulled her close to me again and hugged her hard. "You ARE loved," I told her firmly. "You always have been."

"I'm sorry I screwed things up for us."

"No, sweetie, you didn't. Hell, if I would've just picked up on how bad you were feeling and gone along with what you wanted, we never would've broken up." There. I'd finally told her what had been bothering me for the last six years.

"Maybe we're both to blame," Monica suggested quietly, but she was smiling slightly.

"Or neither of us," I suggested, also smiling, "I mean, we could blame my boss for introducing us to Emily, we could blame Ross for being stupid enough to marry a woman he's only known 6 weeks and make us all fly out to England to watch him do it, we could blame your Mom for being the biggest bitch on the planet, we could blame whoever invented alcohol, we could blame Chandler for-"

"It wasn't Chandler's fault," she said defensively.

"No, I know," I conceeded. A small part of me had always wanted to blame him, but I realised Monica couldn't blame a man she'd been happy with for five years for what brought them together in the first place.

"Anyway, I was upset, so I wandered off, you'd disappeared."

"I went upstairs to our room in case you changed your mind, I was feeling guilty for saying no," I told her. Monica looked at me, surprised. I shrugged and she squeezed my hand.

"Good job we went to his room then," she tried to joke. "When Chandler found me, I was even more drunk than when you saw me, some guy had just assumed I was Ross's MOTHER, I was all bummed out, and Chandler said that to me." She smiled. "You know, when we were together, if I had a moment of being insecure, he would say it again." Seeing Monica smile at the memory made me feel a little uncomfortable, and guilty for feeling like that at all. "And you know the rest," she concluded, a little embarrased.

I swallowed hard. "Chandler was a lucky bastard and he knew it." Monica smiled wryly.

"Are you jealous?" she asked suddenly. I sighed.

"How could I not be?"

"I'm sorry."

"Its not your fault."

"I won't talk about him if it bothers you."

"Honey, if you wanna talk about him, its fine. I don't mind."

"But- you said-"

"I've been jealous ever since you two got together, a little more won't kill me," I was trying desperately to sound cheerful, but the words rang hollow. Monica looked at me sadly. "Don't worry about it," I told her, blushing. I supposed she thought I was pathetic, to have felt so strongly about her for so long, but I couldn't help it.

"I have to tell you something," she said. I looked at her curiously. "When Joey first fell for you, I was jealous. I always had to accept that you and Ross had a history, which was bad enough, but seeing Joey lusting after you… You know that whenever we were hanging out together, if you walked into the room, Joey would stare at you and he'd just look at you like you meant everything in the world to him and it was killing him not to tell you? It was like he was reminding me what I loved about you, how I had felt about you. You have no idea how many times Chandler and I fought because I was looking at you the same way Joey was."

"I…I had no idea," I said quietly.

"Well, I was with Chandler, we were married for God's sake! For me to have feelings for you again was… totally inappropriate!"

"What about now? Is it totally inappropriate now?" I asked stiffly.

She sighed. "I don't know anymore Rach. Being here with you, and talking to you like this, it makes me feel happier than I've felt since… happier than I've felt in eight months. And holding hands with you," she jiggled our joined hands for emphasise, "or holding you," her arms went around me, "or kissing you." 

I was half expecting it, but when she kissed me I was surprised by the force behind it. One hand was in my hair, holding me firmly to her, the other was on my hip, and setting the small strip of bare skin between the tops of my jeans and the bottom of my shirt on fire. And then Monica's tongue was in my mouth. I forgot every word she'd said, all I knew was that she was kissing me with as much passion as I'd ever felt from her. She tasted so good, and I didn't want her to finish what she was saying, I just wanted her to keep kissing me like that. 

I forced my hands to remain on her back, determind to keep my promise not to rush her. But I wasn't exactly complaining or resisting when her hand edged its way under my top. As she gently caressed my stomach I shivered and held her tighter. The tips of her fingers were just grazing the underside of my breast when she suddenly stopped. Stopped kissing me, stopped touching me, pulled away from me. I stared at her in shocked hurt. Monica looked aroused but confused. There was silence for several minutes while we both gathered our thoughts. "It feels wonderful," Monica said, carrying on exactly from where she'd left off, only now sounding slightly breathless. I nodded in heartfelt agreement, but I don't think she even saw. "Its afterwards that it feels bad. Well, not bad. But it makes me feel guilty. Like how can I enjoy being with you when my husband's dead?"

"So you think stayed celibate for the rest of your life would make you feel better?" I said sarcastically. I felt bad as soon as she looked at me, her eyes looked so full of hurt and sadness.

"I told you, I just need time."

"I know, I know," I said, unjustifiably irritaited with her.

"I'm sorry Rach," she said pleadingly.

"Forget it," I snapped, my pent up emotions lashing out, "I'm gonna take a shower."

When I came out of the bathroom, feeling a lot less angry, and a lot more guilty, Monica was gone. She hadn't left a note or anything, but I told myself she was a grown woman who was perfectly capable of looking after herself. A couple of hours later, I was sitting on the couch, listening to some soppy love songs on the stereo and eating double choc chip cookie dough when the phone rang. I was in no mood to talk to anyone, so I let the machine get it.

"Hi, this is Rachel Green, I can't come to the phone right now, but please leave a message after the tone, and if I like you I'll call you back," my own voice sounded from the answer machine.

"Hi, Rach, its me." Monica. I put down the cookie dough and sat forward, debating whether to pick up or not. "Are you there? Please pick up if you are." That was all I needed to make the decision, I leaned forward and started to pick up the reciever. "Actually, maybe you shouldn't, maybe its easier if I just talk to the machine," she changed her mind. I left the receiver where it was, but kept my hand on it. "I'm sorry I took off this morning. All we seem to do at the moment is talk, argue, one of us leaves, then we come back and make up. I know its hard for you to understand how confused I am about you and Chandler right now, but you have to know that just because I still have feelings for him, it doesn't mean I don't love you. Nothing could stop me loving you. When I was with Chandler, you were still my best friend, I still loved you, I hated it when you were mad at me and wouldn't talk to me properly. Please don't be mad now Rach. I'm sorry that I can't give you a date and say that's when I'll be ready for this. But I can tell you that I do want it, I want you. And that scares me, and it scares me more that I'm telling you like this so I can't see your face, but when I get back to the apartment later, I want us to start over, ok? No more being mean to each other, no more dwelling on the past, we just enjoy being there together, that sound ok? Anyway, I should go. I'm surprised the machine hasn't cut me off already actually. I'll be back in about an hour. I love you, ok?"

I stared at the phone. I listened to the message three times, on a loop. Everytime she said "I want you", I felt my heart clench with love for her. She sounded vulnerable, nervous, but I could hear the old Monica-determination in her voice as well, and knew she had probably had to psyche herself up to make the call. 

I was sitting in the living room when she came in. Monica looked nervous, as if she wasn't sure whether she hoped I'd heard the message or hoped that I hadn't. With a feeble attempt at appearing casual, she walked to the fridge and got out a bottle of water.

"You want one?" she asked in a strange voice.

"I was smiling," I said.

"What?" she asked, putting her water on the table and looking at me hopefully.

"When I heard your message, I was smiling so big my cheeks hurt."

Monica looked visably relieved. "Are we ok?" she asked, but her face told me she already knew the answer and was just looking for confirmation. Beaming, I nodded.

"Sweetie, I'll wait as long as you want. I'll do whatever you want. I know you're scared and confused and everything else, but I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Not without you," I promised.

We were both grinning like idiots by then. I stood up from the couch and walked over to her, and hugged her tight. The desire to kiss her was still there; I don't think I could ever be in the same room as her without wanting to kiss her, but knowing that she wanted me too somehow made it easier to control my urge, and to just hold her. 

We spent the rest of the day together, just hanging out. Most of the time, we held hands, or one of us would have an arm around the other, or she would rest her head on my shoulder, or my hand would be on her knee. It felt easy, safe, it felt right. And it set the pattern for the rest of the week. But the closeness of her was as frustrating as it was wonderful. Our touches were not much more intimate than those of close friends, only the expressions on our faces suggested they were anything more. I'm sure it was blatantly obvious that I always wanted more. I think she did too, she was just more scared than me. I didn't totally understand her fear; after all, it wasn't like she was new to this! But I figured it was more to do with her and Chandler than her and me, so I let her be and didn't press her when she stopped my hand moving to her thigh, or kissed my cheek instead of my lips. 

Five days after the phone message, we'd shared a bottle of wine over dinner, which had relaxed Monica enough so that we ended up on the couch kissing. Gently at first, but it wasn't long before dozens of soft kisses merged into a long deep kiss, until it became impossible to control myself and I let my hands slid slowly around Monica's waist and up to stroke her breasts through her shirt. I felt her tense slightly, and broke the kiss for a moment.

"You have no idea how much I love you Monica," I whispered, stroking her tenderly. She sighed contentedly at my touch and kissed me again.

"Yes I do," she whispered back.

There were no words for a long time after that. A picture may tell a thousand words, but a kiss must tell a million. And most of those are: 'I love you' or 'I need you', over and over again, until you say them aloud and they somehow lose their magic. 

It was a magical feeling to kiss her. It made me feel a million things at once. I loved her, I wanted to protect her from everything in the world that could hurt her, I never wanted to lose her, I wanted to lie in her arms forever. But at the same time I wanted so much more than just to kiss her. I wanted to feel her naked skin instead of touching her through her shirt, I wanted to run my hands and tongue all over her body, I wanted to make her moan my name, I wanted to slide my fingers in and out of her slick pussy, I wanted to taste her, I wanted to fuck her.

I hadn't masturbated since the night before I watched her sleep. I knew I'd only think of her while I did it, and I didn't want to do that, not when I was convinced she could read every thought in my head, especially the ones concerning her. I wondered if she did it though, and who she thought about when she did. I figured she must be relieving the tension somehow, or else she had more willpower than the rest of the world put together; if she was anywhere near as horny as I was, there was no way she'd be stopping my hands moving inside her shirt. 

When I went to bed that night, I knew I wouldn't be able to wait anymore. Oh, I'd wait for her, I'd do anything for her. But I couldn't not masturbate any more. Making out with Monica so fiercely and for so long had left me trembling, my cunt throbbing, every part of me was calling out for her touch. Unfortunately, I'd have to make do with my own, but when I was naked under the covers, it didn't take much imagination to pretend my fingers were Monica's. 

A knock at the door distracted me, but I ignored it, I was nearly there, just a minute or two more… But the knocking persisted and grew louder, until I couldn't ignore it anymore. Groaning in frustration, I scrambled out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown then opened the door. I don't know why I was so surprised to see Monica there, I mean, who else could it have been? She had a cheaky grin on her face, and I blushed in the dim light, knowing she was fully aware what I'd been doing.

"Hey," I said in a would-be casual voice.

"I got lonely on the couch," she explained. "I wondered if you'd mind cuddling tonight?" She grinned at me again, "unless you're busy of course."

"No, no, come on in," I said. My orgasm would have to wait, I'd rather have Monica. She smiled at me and went around to the other side of the bed. As I watched her snuggle down under the covers I realised she was wearing shorts and a vest top, which she was obviously intending to sleep in. I, on the other hand, was naked except for my dressing gown which would be awkward to sleep in, and I knew she'd have to comment on it if I did anyway. "I'll just go get changed," I mumbled, grabbing a huge t-shirt from the floor.

"Why?" she asked, feinging ignorance. I chose not to answer her and hurried out of the bedroom, leaving her chuckling after me.

It was only once I got to the bathroom that I realised I had no panties to put on. Figuring she'd only tease me more if I went back to get some, and that the t-shirt was long enough to allow me some modesty, I decided it'd have to do. When I went back to the bedroom, I quickly joined Monica under the covers, trying not to let my t-shirt slid up too far. It was typically ironic, of course, that tonight Monica was friskier than I'd seen her since we'd been together. Almost straight away, she started kissing me, then she was stroking my breasts and stomach through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. It was too much for my over-sensitised self to cope with, and my own hands were underneath her vest, toying with her hard nipples until she moaned, and started to try and lift up my t-shirt to get to my naked breasts. I could tell she was frustrated when I stopped her, still afraid of her knowing I had no panties on. Monica rolled on top of me, her left leg between mine, her thigh pressing against me. Without needing to think, I moved my own leg up to press against her through her shorts, and suddenly wondered if she wore panties underneath them. Neither of us shifted in any serious attempt to fully enjoy our position, but one of Monica's hands were stroking my breasts through the thin material of my t-shirt, the other was making its way up my thigh, until she was sliding her hand under the hem of the t-shirt. And didn't stop her, I couldn't stop her. So she continued on up my thigh until she moved off me, leaving her hand where her thigh had been pressed against me. I felt myself blushing in the dark as her familiar fingers discovered how turned on I was. I think I held my breath, unsure what exactly she was going to do next. 

"I love you," she whispered, before kissing me passionately while her fingers began to move so slowly I would have screamed in frustration if my mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied. All I could do was cling to her as she sped up, until I was throwing myself up at her and kissing her as though I would never get to kiss anyone ever again. We never stopped kissing, even when my orgasm tore through me so all I could do was shake and gasp for air, she was planting kisses all over my face and neck, her fingers still gently rubbing me until I lay still. 

"I love you too," I assured her when I felt I could speak again. I rolled onto my side, so we were face to face, and kissed her lovingly. Monica stroked my cheek tenderly, and my face was close enough to hers that I could feel her smile. She looped her arms around my neck. My hands went back underneath her vest, gently stroking her, making her kiss me harder. Relucatantly, she released her arms from around me, allowing me to gently push her onto her back. She stopped me stripping her vest off her, but allowed me to push it up to reveal her gorgeous stomach. I traced circles around her belly button, with touches so light she was almost giggling into our kisses because I was tickling her. My hand moved slowly lower, until I reached the waistband of her shorts. I felt her tense, and moved it away long enough to push her vest further up, so I could finally kiss her perfect breasts, but then my hand was back on her stomach, and she allowed me to edge it slowly into her shorts. She wasn't wearing panties underneath. My hand continued lower, and she didn't move to stop me, she just grabbed my head and forced me to kiss her lips instead of her breasts. She didn't stop me until my hand was pressed between her legs, where I could feel that she wanted me as much I as wanted her. 

"Rach, don't," she said in a choked voice, pulling away from my kiss. I looked at her and saw that she was serious, not teasing me or playing around, so I did as she asked and removed my hand from her shorts. "I'm sorry, its just-" she started to explain, sounding as though she was on the verge of tears.

"Shhh, baby, its ok, you don't have to explain anything to me, its ok," I reassured her, hugging her tightly and kissing her hair. She kissed me softly, once, then wriggled slightly away from me, so she could sleep easier. We didn't need to be pressed together, but I needed to hold her in some way all night, I needed to know we were still joined together. 

To be continued… 

_A/N: This was written before I left for Uni in September, but this is only my second weekend of having access to the internet for uneducational purposes (I know, I know, lesbian fanfics apparantly aren't educational!) since then, and I've only just gotten around to toning it down (slightly) to what I hope is acceptable for an R rating. Like I said, if it offends you, tell me. Chapter 4 is very much up in the air, as is whether I'll be going home again before the Christmas holidays, so bear with me._


	4. chapter 4

**Long Time No See (part 4)**

****

This follows on directly from the last part, and this is the final chapter. By now you should know the entire fic is Rach's POV, and if you think I own the characters, you're sadly mistaken but please keep being mistaken cause it makes me feel special. Like the chapter 3, this one features s-e-x, so don't read if it offends you. If its too strong for an R rating, tell me and I'll remove it. Dedicated to Mon-ee-kah for making me laugh when I'm having a bad week.

Waking up with Monica lying next to me felt right. I realised how much I had missed having a warm body to wake up to. But not just ANY warm body, there was something special about Monica. My hand was still in hers, resting next to her face, which was turned towards me. I could feel her breath on my hand and it made me smile. She was lying on her stomach, with the covers bunched around her waist, and I couldn't stop my free hand moving to gently touch the skin between her vest and shorts. I wanted nothing more than to pull her as close to me as possible and just hold her, breathing in the smell of her, but I restrained myself and allowed her to sleep.

It wasn't long before she woke up, smiling, apparently as happy to be with me as I was to be to be with her. She slowly brought our joined hands to her lips and kissed my fingers. I smiled as she released my hand so she could move onto her side. When she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my neck, I smiled wider, and my arms went around her in return.

"I dreamt about you," she told me.

"Yeah? Was it a good dream?" 

"Best dream I've had in a long time."

"Wow, impressive, I feel honoured to have been a part of it."

"You weren't just a part of it, you WERE it."

I grinned. "You wanna tell me more?"

"Nope," she giggled. 

"We should really get dressed…" I teased, threatening to move away, but she refused to let me go.

"Ok, I'll tell," she said. I don't think she'd ever seriously intended NOT to tell. I snuggled closer into her embrace and kissed her cheek. "I dreamt I didn't make you stop last night. I dreamt I let you do what you wanted to do to me, what I wanted you to do to me."

"Oh," I said, unsure what response she wanted from me.

"You know, after you fell asleep, I lay there thinking I was such an idiot for stopping you. I thought about waking you up like I used to, and finishing what we started, but I didn't. I told myself you wouldn't want me to wake you," she elaborated.

"I would've forgiven you," I murmured. She smiled.

"I know you would."

"So why didn't you?" I couldn't resist asking. Monica sighed.

"The same reason I've been stopping you ever since I came back here." 

"Can I ask you something?" I said, stroking her back, sensing that she was angry with herself.

"Of course." 

"How come you could do that to me and you couldn't let me return the favour?"

She was quiet for a couple of minutes, considering. "I wanted to make you feel good," she said eventually. I kissed her tenderly.

"You're allowed to feel good too, Mon," I whispered. She nodded. "Will you let me do that for you sweetheart?" She nodded again and we kissed passionately. After a few minutes, I slowly pulled away from her. Monica looked at me curiously. "Stand up sweetheart." Her eyes questioned me, but she trustingly did as I asked and stood at the end of the bed. I followed her and stood opposite her. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, big blue eyes full of uncertainty, but her mouth was beginning to curve into a smile as I approached her. I kissed her. Softly at first, then with more and more passion. Monica's arms went around me and pulled me closer to her, but after only a few moments, I pulled away again. 

"What?" she whispered, forcing herself to be content with taking my hand if she couldn't hold me. 

"Can I take your vest off?" I asked. Smiling, she nodded. Slowly, taking the time to enjoy the feeling of her smooth skin sliding under my hands, I peeled her vest over her head, revealing her flat stomach and breasts that begged to be touched. I handed her vest to her, knowing that even if I folded it and carefully put it away, she would have to correct whatever I'd done, but she surprised me by throwing it into a corner of the room. I met her eyes and she grinned at me and raised an eyebrow, as if asking what I was going to do next. 

I answered the unasked question by taking her hand and pulling her back onto the bed. She lay on her back while I covered her breasts with kisses, and I felt her arms go around me, holding me gently. 

"Are you ok?" I whispered after a while, resting my head on her stomach. 

"Yes," she whispered back.

"You want me to take off your shorts?"

"Yes please."

I lifted my head and smiled at her, placing my hands on the waistband of her shorts. Monica raised her hips to allow me to pull them slowly down her legs. I kissed her stomach, my hands running up and down her thighs. I looked at her face to check she was ok with this and she was still smiling, so I kissed further down her stomach, glancing back to her face every so often. I reached my destination and licked and kissed her there, noting with pleasure how she pushed herself up to me. Monica's hands found their way into my hair, then down to my shoulders, clutching me. When she was nearing release, I suddenly pulled away from her. 

"Mon, are you ok?" I asked teasingly. She glared at me.

"Rachel Karen Green, for fucks sake, finish what you started."

Chuckling to myself I moved up to place a quick kiss on her mouth, then went back down. She sighed with relief when I resumed probing her with my tongue, and her hands firmly held my head, preventing me from teasing her again. When her orgasm swept over her, I couldn't resist stopping what I was doing and watching her. She was so beautiful; eyes closed, mouth open, head thrown back, hair messed up, face flushed. I pulled myself up so I was lying on my stomach next to her, my head turned towards her. After a few seconds, her eyes opened and she looked at me. I leaned over her and kissed her passionately, feeling deliciously loved as her arms went around me again and she didn't want to let me go.

"I'm ok," she whispered, her face barely an inch from mine. 

"I'm glad."

"Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"My pleasure."

It was several minutes before she released me and allowed me to lie next to her instead of clutching me half on top of her, and even then, she kept a tight hold of my hand. 

"Would you think it was weird if I told you that's the first orgasm I've had in eight months?" she asked suddenly. 

"You didn't masturbate?" I asked, unable to avoid sounding shocked. I could pretty easily believe she hadn't in Oklahoma, where she was so sad, but what about in New York? With everything we'd been doing, that had reduced me to a quivering wreck? 

"No," she said quietly.

"Why?" She shrugged and looked uncomfortable, so I kissed her gently. "It's ok baby, it's ok if you don't know, or if you don't wanna tell me." She smiled gratefully.

"I guess… I guess I figured that was something, something special, for me and Chandler, you know?" she said slowly, looking at me carefully to see how I reacted.

"That's why you didn't wanna let me touch you?" 

"I was scared. I was scared that if I let you, if you and I were lovers, and you made me feel as good as Chandler made me feel, then I dunno, that I'd lose something with Chandler."

"And now?"

"I didn't just dream about you last night you know," she said, in an apparently unrelated thread of conversation. Blinking a couple of times at her sudden change of direction, I figured she just didn't want to talk about it, so I let her be.

"You didn't?"

"No, I had another dream. Chandler and I were in our apartment, THIS apartment, not the Oklahoma one. We were having an argument about some plate he'd accidentally broken while he was washing up, or something silly like that. I was, you know, being me, freaking out about it. And he took the broken pieces out of my hands, and he kissed me ever so gently, and he held me tight, and he just said 'It's ok sweetheart'. And then he held me at arms length and he said it again, 'it's ok'. And I knew he didn't just mean about the stupid plate. He meant about everything." While she was telling me about her dream, Monica had a strange, even dream-like, expression on her face, but when she stopped, she looked a little embarrassed, and almost like she expected me to tell her it was a load of crap. She was relieved when she saw I was smiling, not in a humouring-the-woman-who's-husband-died kind of way, not in a you're-crazy-but-I-love-you-anyway kind of way either. I was honoured that she'd shared something so special with me, that she trusted me enough, and that she had finally been able to be let herself go.

"I love you," I said, kissing her again.

"I love you too," she answered without needing to think.

"I guess you're set now for another eight months then?" I joked, stroking her back.

"No way. I hope we'll be doing that again sooner," she said, suddenly shy. I kissed her.

"Try and stop me."

She smiled widely. "You know, I think its your turn right now though. And I know you're not wearing panties under that, but I still think you're a little overdressed." One hand was sliding smoothly under my t-shirt, stroking my ass. I shifted so I was lying almost completely on top of her, kissing her deeply. Monica lifted my t-shirt and slowly pulled it over my head. She rolled us over so she was on top of me, kissing my breasts adoringly. Her tongue traced my nipple as her hand skimmed up and down my side. "Oh baby," she murmured, planting open-mouthed kisses down my body. I stroked her hair as she slid her fingers into me, kissing my stomach before moving further down to lick me. I had forgotten just how good she was at this. 

"Oh God Mon!" 

She withdrew her fingers and her tongue replaced them. My body twisted and arched, desperately trying to get as much of her as possible, and I mumbled incoherent encouragement. 

"Rachel," she said softly, lifting her face barely an inch. "I'd forgotten how good you taste."

I was still trying to formulate the words to beg her to stop talking and go back to licking me when she giggled and did so of her own accord. A couple of minutes later, I came, and Monica moved back up my body, kissing my flushed skin as she went, until she was lying on top of me as I lay there panting. I opened my eyes and saw her beautiful face looking down at me and wrapped my arms around her as tight as I could; I'd lost her before, I was gonna make damn sure I didn't lose her again.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," she said eventually, edging out of my grip. 

"Want company?" I asked, letting her go but not moving to follow.

"Depends," she teased, "whether you mean YOUR company or someone else's."

"Well, I need a reason to get out of bed, so mine I'm afraid."

"Why? I'd love for you to stay right here all day long, waiting for me."

"I would," I said seriously. Monica smiled and blushed. I stroked her cheek and she leant to kiss me.

"I know. And it scares me a little," she admitted.

"Why?"

"Because we're in this real deep."

"Is that ok?"

She paused, and I was terrified she was gonna say no. But she didn't, she just nodded slowly.

"Yeah, it is."

I kissed her. "How 'bout that shower?"

Smiling, we both got off the bed, and, holding hands, our fingers laced, we headed for the bathroom, without bothering to dress.

THE END


End file.
